Out on the roof gazing at the moon again. . .hope you don't mind too much. . .
Child to Moon, Come In
Pretty is as pretty does. Every time I let it spill that the woman in the moon cast her silver-gold spell on me, here it comes. How stupid can I be? Don’t I know her smile is a come-on? She is cold. She is distant. A pale milk-toast who ducks behind clouds unexcused. Not stupid, I wait for Owl’s yooo-hooo, then inch up the window by my bed, cre-e-e-e-p onto the roof, and bend my favorite spell-caster’s ear. You listen, I mouth. I know you know, but. . .you listen. Always home, just have to close my eyes, and here you are. When I’ve said my piece, you beam a big I Hear You. Secrets always safe. Tell me something, Miz Moon. Why is it you let those clouds walk all over you? That’s not it, she sighs. They work with me. I help them lighten up a little; they keep me from seeing too much. You need to let me listen, I say. Not all ears, but take a gander. Look like an elephant’s, or not? We still laugh about it. L i s t e n.
Mary Angela Nangini's poems celebrate the richness of life and love. From the city to cottage-country and the roads in between, Nangini explores the changing seasons of her varied region. (This book will soon be reprinted in hard cover.)
Still Living on my Feet is the follow up to Tichaona Chinyelu’s first book, In the Whirlwind, which was rooted in a sense of hard-hitting revolutionary black love. However, in this sophomore effort, Tichaona brings the revolutionary essence from deep
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Getting old now ...missing out mostly!!
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